Elven Names And Meanings Novels & Stories

Then she spoke, her voice softening. “My name is Elira Vaelthorn. And you’re right—I am no merchant. I am an elf of Sylvaen.” Kaelen blinked. The name stirred faint memories of stories whispered in the tavern, tales of an unseen city hidden deep in the forests, where elves lived beyond the reach of men. “Then why are you here?” he asked. Elira lowered herself against a tree trunk, pressing a hand to her wound. Her silver hair spilled across her shoulders like liquid moonlight. She looked less like a traveler and more like a fallen star.

“In Fae. The herb is actually named after the Fae word, not the reverse.” “Yes, though I didn’t know that until the good-witch told me,” I looked up at him and smiled. “Though, apparently, it normally means little dragon and from the indication of this cavern, this dragon is not little.” “The Elvish word for golden is lyt etel,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “Seers,” he added with a tone of disgust. “They all seem to hold aspirations to be word smiths. What else did they say?”